


been here all along

by losverkaspbrak (orphan_account)



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Boys In Love, Multi, Tooth Rotting Fluff, based on that one taylor swift song, no pennywise, pining eddie, richie plays baseball bc that’s just how it is
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-04-15 03:12:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14150676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/losverkaspbrak
Summary: She wears short skirts, he wears t-shirts.





	1. why can’t you see?

**Author's Note:**

> ajsksjsjs so i listened to “You Belong With Me” on an endless loop and this happened. oops.

Eddie is fiddling with his post-it flags, wondering if he should mark the diagram or the text about separation of powers, when he sees a light turn on from the corner of his eye. He scrambles for the huge pad of paper and the thick sharpie he buys in five packs for just this reason, craning his neck around to take a look in the mirror hanging over his dresser- same parted hair, metal braces, and pale face as usual- but no pen on his face or stuff between his teeth or anything. Eddie wishes he wasn’t this excited, but it’s the best part of his night when Richie Tozier gets home from baseball practice.

Sure enough, Richie looks tired and sort of dirty and wonderful. He drops his glove and bat to the floor, using his now free hand to gesticulate wildly. Eddie realizes he has to be on the phone with Greta, because no one else makes Richie that upset. He averts his eyes, flicking the blue and pink tags spread over the edge of his textbook. He knows that just because Richie has his curtains open, it’s not a free invitation into his life. Still, Eddie can’t help but think sometimes, very quietly in the middle of the night, that there has to be a reason his family moved in next door to the Toziers, and that Richie’s window is right next to his.

Then again, Richie was Homecoming King and Eddie is first clarinet in the Concert Orchestra and pep band. They don’t exactly have a lot in common. But when Richie smiles, Eddie can’t breathe and when Richie laughs, silent through two panes of glass, Eddie would give anything to be the one who makes that happen.

So instead of finishing his homework, he sneaks another look across to see Richie flip his phone shut and throw it at his bed, running a hand through his hair. Eddie frowns and writes quickly.

 **Are you alright?** He asks, holding up the artist’s sketchpad. Richie flops down on his bed, and after a moment or two, when he looks over, grimaces slightly. Eddie is starting to think that finally, after three years, has decided this thing- these notes they sort of pass- is too intrusive, too juvenile, too something, when Eddie realizes he’s just writing back.

 **Greta is complaining about prom again** is pushed up against the opposite window. Richie’s handwriting, slanted and messy at the best of times, is near illegible, but Eddie has seen and heard enough of these arguments for a lifetime. Greta wants the picture book prom- the giant limo, the huge expensive dinner, the giant corsage, the after party, all of it. It’s not that Richie wouldn’t give it to her, it’s just not what he wants to do. Greta has had to drag him to the last four dances, under increasing amounts of duress. Eddie has any number of sentiments about the situation- least of which being he would walk through hell with no shoes if he got to go to Prom with Richie - so instead he goes a more direct route.

 **:C** Eddie quickly draws the frowning face. Richie smirks slightly and his shoulders move somewhere between a shrug and snort. He rolls his eyes as if to say ’tell me about it’. Eddie bites his lower lip, looking down at the paper, wondering what to write back that’s true and not “I love you” written a hundred times all over the paper, but when he looks back up, the curtains are already closed. Eddie is still tapping his marker absently and sighing at the dark blue window across the way when he hears his door creak open.

“You know,” Stan says, staring at the big :C across the paper, “They have these things called cell phones. You can use them to text each other.” He sits on top of the dresser, shoving Eddie’s backpack to the floor. “Although, you know, I take it back, don’t, Eddie. Tozier’s a moron.” Eddie frowns deeply.

“Stan, Richie’s perfect. And who the fuck let you in?” Eddie replies stubbornly, because it’s true. And not just because Richie is the captain of the baseball team, or the most popular boy in school or because he’s honestly beautiful- but because he drives his friends to school every day and is going to college entirely on scholarships he earned not just through sports, and in the winter, when it’s too cold and icy to bike, Richie makes him get in the car, too. Richie is perfect because he’s nice to little kids and animals even when other guys are looking, and he works a job he hates so he can do stuff like rent limos to take Greta to dances and buy her flowers on her birthday, even when he doesn’t want to. Stan rolls his eyes.

“Eddie, I texted you an hour ago. If you weren’t too busy fantasizing about a certain someone, you probably would have noticed.” Stan sneers, reaching for his messenger bag and pulling out his textbooks. “Ya know, it’s adorable that you’ve been brainwashed by exposure into the world’s most hideous man-crush, but Richie Tozier is so far from perfect I cannot even begin to describe all the ways he’s inappropriate.”

Eddie wishes Stan had never came over, but then takes it back immediately. After all, Stan is his best friend. And privately- since the only time Eddie brought it up Stan hadn’t talked to him for a whole day- Eddie thinks Stan doesn’t like Richie because they’re so alike.

Eddie is sure his facial expression is some variety of stubborn and irritated, which explains why Stan rolls his eyes, but smiles and ruffles Eddie’s hair.

“Okay, whatever, let’s just start reading then.” He instructs, flipping his history textbook open. Eddie sighs and attempts to fix his hair, which just makes it look even more bizarre and rumpled. He finally settles down to finishing his government reading. If the other curtain twitches open a couple of times to watch him read, Eddie doesn’t notice.

  
                            ____________________

  
The next day Eddie wakes up feeling inexplicably cheerful and reckless, so he doesn’t wear a sweater over his button down shirt and soft old khakis. He just brings a windbreaker in case it rains, and laces his white sneakers tightly before bolting out the door. The weather is beautiful and perfect, spring at its best, and Eddie knows today is going to be wonderful when he sees Richie tossing his backpack into the backseat of his car.

"You’re early,” Richie calls, and Eddie is awed at the implication that Richie Tozier has any idea, whatsoever, of his schedule.

“It’s a nice day,” Eddie replies, because one, it is, and two, it’s better than saying something like, “Good morning, I love you.” Richie smiles and Eddie is overwhelmingly positive that this is maybe the single greatest day ever. And because today is the greatest day ever, Eddie hazards even more conversation. “How was your night?” Richie rolls his eyes.

“Had to read, like, all of Gilgamesh, I swear, Eds, my English teacher is a sadist,” He protests, but there’s still the hint of a smile that makes Eddie clutch the handle bars of his bike a little tighter. “But for real though, it wasn’t so bad. There were battles and bros and prostitutes and stuff, I was pretty surprised.” Eddie blinks for a moment, because he’s heard Gilgamesh paraphrased before but that was rather- succinct, if vague.

“The epics were as entertainment for ancient cultures,” Eddie finds himself saying. “I suppose tastes haven’t changed much since then.” Richie stares at him for a moment and Eddie is about to say something along the lines of _’not that there’s anything wrong with that’_ when Richie just bursts out laughing. While Eddie doesn’t understand what’s so funny, he’s happy, nonetheless, to make Richie laugh. Richie trails off finally and grins, wide and wonderful, and he leans slightly so his hip is pressed against the door of the car.

“So fuckin’ cute, Eds.” Richie says, leaning forward to pinch his cheeks. Eddie turns his head away at the right time, and Richie’s hands meet cold air. He pouts, looking ~~beautiful~~ childish, and Eddie feels warm down to his toes.

"Don’t call me Eds,” he says, softly, more out love than annoyance. Richie looks like he’s about to say something when Ben flies out the door trailing a messenger bag, a bagel and a coat. He lived right across from them, only a few houses away from Stan, so he’d always be at Richie’s house before school started.

“Hey, Eddie, morning,” He calls around the bagel, waving the hand not holding the coat. Eddie waves back, because Ben is Richie’s friend, and that makes him amazing in Eddie’s books. It’s not like he could be rude to someone as sweet as Ben Hanscom, anyway.

“You want a ride, Spaghetti? I gotta drop Ben off first, but why don’t you come along?” Ben didn’t go to DHS like the rest of them, and went to a private school, instead. It was one that was known for its literature and arts program, and Ben had gotten in with a haiku he’d written, _January Embers_. Richie’s words come ringing back to him, and Eddie is possibly in another plane of happiness. "I don’t have practice this afternoon, so I can drive you home, too.” Eddie can hardly trust himself to talk, so he just nods and manages a ’ _thank you_ ’ as he puts his bike back in the garage.

The ride to drop Ben off at the private school is uneventful, if uneventful covers five frantic text messages from Stan asking if he really just saw Eddie getting into Richie’s car and three follow-up links to sex offender websites. Richie eyeballs him with a casual, “Your phone is blowing up, man,” and Eddie deletes them all with a smile. They circle around the front of the Waynflete School of Fine Arts and drop Ben off. There are about fifteen students standing around in clumps, some waiting for Ben, but most of them look like they want nothing more than to be the person getting into the passenger seat of Richie’s car, but today- today that’s _him_.

“So, you’re reading Gilgamesh,” Eddie prompts, not because the silence is awkward- Eddie never thinks silence is awkward- but because he likes to hear Richie’s opinions on things. Their conversations always lead somewhere unexpected and the insight they provide into the way Richie thinks is like a glimpse through a keyhole of a door he would like to open. Richie sort of smiles, just a quick hint of amusement.

“Yeah, we had a choice to read it or Beowulf, and I had to hear all about it last year to help Ben with this terrible art project of his. No way was I putting myself through that again,” Richie says with an exaggerated eye roll. “Although no one told me it was a love story, _god_.” Eddie blinks.

“What?” He asks delicately, because while he enjoys Richie’s train of thought, he usually finds himself totally incapable of following it, much to his chagrin. Richie waves a hand loosely.

“You know. Gilgamesh and Enkidu. Like, there’s bromance and then there’s weeping for fifty pages that your boyfriend is dead. It was like Brokeback Mesopotamia,” Richie argues. Really, Eddie has no idea what to even attempt to say, because he’s still stuck on the fact that what Richie got out of the Epic of Gilgamesh was bros, battles, prostitutes and gay demi-gods. “It was still cool, though.”

“I’ve never really thought about it from that perspective before,” Eddie admits. Richie shrugs.

“God, Ben looked like I had punched thousands of years of established literary interpretation in the face when I said that. But then again, Ben still thinks Bert and Ernie are roommates,” Richie says, rolling his eyes. Eddie frowns.

“Are they not?” He asks, because he’s mostly certain they lived together. Richie stares at Eddie, which is somewhat concerning, considering he’s still driving the car.

“Eds, they’re gay, too,” He insists. Eddie blinks. That puts an entirely new spin on Sesame Street.

“So you’re saying that you think Bert and Ernie are lovers?” Eddie asks. He supposes they could be common law married, but they seemed to argue constantly about living conditions, which doesn’t make for a solid foundation for a relationship- or so Dr. Phil claims. Richie is still staring at him, but at least they’re at a stop light.

“Did you seriously just say ’ _lovers_?” Richie demands of him, and Eddie nods. “Okay, but just… don’t, because then I had to imagine muppet sex and _oh, god_ , I just did it again.” Eddie tilts head to the side, but still can’t picture it.

They pull into the parking lot at school, Richie slipping into his space smoothly. Eddie sort of wishes he had thought to have Richie drop him off somewhere else, but then he would have to explain that he’s sort of worried he’s going to get shoved every time someone throws up a hand for Richie to lazily high five as they walk in to school, the taller boy saying something about the fascist nature of the school parking system. Through some sort of cosmic sign, or possibly joke, Richie’s locker is right next to Eddie’s, across from the cafeteria.

"So any way the point is- see you in Physics, Eds,” Richie says, only to be tackled back against his locker by a cloud of blond hair and perfume.

“You didn’t call me back last night,” Greta accuses, poking a finger into Richie’s chest. He frowns.

“You told me not to, Greta, you said to call you on the fifth of never,” Richie says. Eddie hides his face in his locker, trying to look like he’s attempting to put his coat in, not eavesdropping shamelessly.

“Richie, I was upset. You were obviously supposed to call back,” she insists. “But I forgive you.” They’re suddenly silent, so Eddie finally closes his locker and- _oh_. Greta has Richie pressed back against the locker and she’s kissing him insistently. Eddie’s good day has gone straight into the garbage so he just drops a quiet, “ _See you in Physics, Rich_ ,” and walks away toward his English class, clutching his copy of Beloved because he sort of feels sick to his stomach.

Eddie had a lot to say about traditional slave narratives and guilt and the supernatural, written in precise blue pen in the margins of the pages, but instead he sits quietly in the front row picking at a piece of tape shredded and stuck to the desk. 90 minutes goes slowly but way too fast. Eddie finds himself grabbing his bookbag and slipping through the hall to go sit behind the battered lab table in the science wing. When he’d walked into the classroom on the first day, Richie had waved him over to the table and gleefully pointed out, scratched into the surface, “ _Stanley Uris Has Crabs_.” Richie had chortled through most of the first class and Eddie still sighs over it. He keeps asking Stan why someone would have taken the time to scratch a claim that he has public lice into a desk, but he has never gotten a satisfactory answer.

"So, sorry about that, uh, earlier,” Richie says, dropping heavily into the seat next to him. “Greta sometimes is uh…”

Eddie tries to be both helpful and tactful. “Tempestuous?” He supplies. Richie raises his eyebrows.

“I was going to say ‘a bitch’, but that works too,” He grins back. Eddie feels uncomfortable sharing in the joke, when in his more uncharitable moments he’s thought similar things but without the raw current of fondness that underlies Richie’s snipe. “She just- it’s important to her, right? So it should matter to me, too, right?” Richie runs a frustrated hand through his dark curls. Eddie frowns.

“Rich, shouldn’t the thing that is important to Greta be going with you, not how she goes?” Eddie asks quietly, trying to parse the surprised expression that appears on Richie’s face.

“Thanks, Eds,” Richie finally says, and then scrambles to pull his textbook and binder out as Dr. Nell walks in.

“You’re welcome, Richie,” Eddie replies in a whisper. They have a pop quiz which abruptly ends their conversation, but Richie seems thoughtful and withdrawn for the rest of the class, heading out to lunch with a simple, “Meet you in the parking lot,” to reassure Eddie that he hasn’t forgotten his offer to drive him home.

                             ______________

 


	2. you belong with me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> eddie’s got the hots ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is 100% insp by my shitty flirting skills fifnsns

"I hope I didn't say anything that upset him," Eddie says, idly tapping his carrot stick against his Snapple. Bev stares at him.

"Eddie, seriously, he's not a unicorn. He's a dude. I think he can handle you giving him some actual good advice," she says, pulling out another pixy stick from the rapidly dwindling pack.

"You're going to get juvenile diabetes," Eddie says sadly. Bill snorts.

"Sh-she’s going to get put back on Ruh-Ruh-Ritalin," he accuses fondly. "More imp-portantly, Eh-Eddie, you said what was on your mind and you tuh-told the truth. You can't be a buh-better friend than that.".

Stan shrugs. "Well, you could push Greta down the stairs," he offers. Bill pinches him viciously because Eddie is still staring, horrified. "What?"

"Stan, I don't wish Greta any physical harm," Eddie says bleakly. Bev eyes Eddie with extreme prejudice.

"But you kind of wish all her hair would fall out of her head and she'd suddenly become a lesbian," Bev says. "By the way, I can make at least half of that happen. Just say the word, man." Bill pinches Stanley even harder.

"Jesus Christ, Bill, quit it! It’s the redhead you want!" Stan whines, blushing. Ever since he started dating Bill, he’d been more carefree, taking more risks and not being afraid to speak his mind. Bill thought he brought out the good side in him. Eddie thought that was what made Richie and Stan so alike.

"Look, he's ssstill driving you home, ruh-right? If he's still in a fun-funk, and it's really bothering you, just ask," Bill advises. Eddie smiles softly. Bill is always thoughtful and gives the best advice and Bev and Stan wouldn't offer to do terrible things if they didn't mean it- and they wouldn't mean it unless they cared.

"You're right, thank you, Bill," Eddie says and Stan rolls his eyes.

"Oh, nice, he gets the thank you for being Dear Abby and I get pin- Ow! Bi-ill!" Stan hisses. Bill smiles at him sweetly.

"It wouldn't hu-hurt so much if there wuh-wasn't so much of you to pinch," he replies breezily. Bev lets out an “ _oooh_ ,” hands clasped over her mouth. Stan stares at him.

"So now you're calling me fat?" he demands. Eddie just smiles fondly as he finishes his lunch, feeling much more at ease with the world.

           _______________

After lunch, he cheerfully answers questions about judicial review and the branches of government, and when class is over he stops by his locker to grab his copy of Virgil before heading to Study Hall. He technically shares this class with Richie too, but more often than not Richie is nowhere to be found. However, today Richie is sitting right in the middle of the lecture hall, and when he sees Eddie walk in he motions toward the empty desk next to him. Sally Mueller gives him the mother of all dirty looks but he obediently takes the seat offered.

"Hello, Richie," Eddie says quietly. He doesn't believe in talking in Study Hall but it's still five minutes until the hour. Class hasn't officially started yet. Eddie doesn't say, “I'm surprised to see you,” because that sounds sort of rude, like he expected Richie to skip class- although he usually does. Instead he places his book on the desk calmly.

"Hey, Eds," Richie says at his usual volume, which causes Sally to glare at Eddie again. "So, about what you said earlier." Richie trails off and then looks irritated. An apology is already forming behind Eddie's lips when Richie continues.

"Do you- should I say something to her?" Richie asks, still looking irritated, but there's a hint of a flush on his ears and neck and oh- he's embarrassed. Eddie has no idea why, but there it is.

"Richie, it seems to be a huge issue in your- relationship." Eddie stumbles over the word, because the irony of the situation is overwhelming. He spends most of his time wishing there was no relationship, and here he seems to be helping Richie repair it. Richie rolls his eyes.

"I feel like a girl," Richie sighs. "I hate talking about this stuff and Sam never shuts up about it." Eddie blinks, as he hadn't thought Richie was displaying any feminine behavior, and tells him as much. Richie barks out a laugh, garnering a hissed "shut up" from Sally as Ms. Barnes walks in and parks herself in the front with a badly disguised romance novel.

Richie pulls out a piece of paper.

 **Anyway, so I saw you at lunch.** Richie writes, handwriting familiar and terrible and dear. **You're pretty close with Bev, huh?** Eddie smiles, pulling out a sheet of paper himself.

 **Bev is a very good friend.** Eddie writes, wondering absently where Richie was sitting, because he hadn't seen him at lunch.

 **So are you going to, I don't know... ask her to prom?** Richie scratches out. Eddie blinks and stares at Richie, because a) Bev would laugh in his face, friend or no, and b) he had thought it was more than obvious that he was not interested in women.

 **I wasn't planning on it, no**. He writes back carefully. Richie frowns.

 **Why not? It looks like she really likes you** Richie scribbles out, lightning fast. Eddie raises both his eyebrows.

 **Richie, Bev knows I’m gay.** **I sincerely doubt that she’s harboring any unrequited feelings for me**. Eddie explains.

"What!?" Richie shouts. Ms. Barnes looks up quickly.

"I don't care how handsome you are, Richie, keep it zipped," she says, immediately putting her face back in her book. Richie blushes bright red, but instead writes **WHAT????  **in huge capitals, underlining it twice. Eddie feels like he's swallowing around a knot.

 **I’ve had 'homo' written on my locker several times, Richie. I would have thought you knew.** Eddie writes, trying to stay calm and ignoring the slight tremor in the shape of his 'l's and 't's.

 **I thought that was just guys... messing around, I always took care of** Richie pauses, knuckles white around the wood of the pencil. **You should have told me.** Eddie frowns.

 **I didn’t think my sexual orientation was any secret**. He manages before Richie shakes his head violently.

 **NO NO did anyone** Richie starts again, then scribbles it out. **Has anyone ever messed with you Eds** His pencil stays frozen over the paper for a moment. **I mean, more than those assholes, no one's ever** Richie runs a hand through his hair. **You're okay, right?**

Eddie blinks and looks at Richie, who looks stressed and angry and it feels like his chest is too tight because Richie is worried about him.

 **I’m fine, Richie.** Eddie writes, as reassuringly as he can, because there had been a moment of sheer terror when he realized Richie had honestly not known and his reaction could have been so- but Richie is concerned. Richie smiles, wide, relieved and it's like the sun parting the clouds after it rains. Eddie is not sure what to say, but Richie starts, like someone has jabbed him with a pin.

 **You're not** Richie tries, hesitates, continues. **You're not taking Bill to prom, are you?** Eddie bites back a laugh, sudden and amused.

 **No, Richie. I’m not**. Eddie promises. Richie heaves a seemingly involuntary sigh of relief.

 **Good**. He writes, and Eddie has a moment of blind hope before Richie goes on. **You could do better.**

Eddie resists the urge to bury his face in his hands. It's not Richie's fault that Eddie is in love with him and has been for years, it's not Richie's fault that he likes women, it's not Richie's fault that Eddie cannot see past him to ever wanting anyone else. But it's still remarkably frustrating.

 **Thank you, but Bill could do better than me**. Eddie finally writes when he realizes some sort of response other than lovelorn silence is probably required. Richie shrugs.

 **Shut up, you're the nicest guy I know.** Richie writes back, with the sort of lazy assurance that means he really thinks that and Eddie's heart aches. He wishes he could just be happy with this, with the warmth and weight of Richie's regard, and he's happy- he is- but it's just not enough.

 **Anyway. CRAP!** Richie writes, hissing slightly under his breath. **Coach assigned an emergency practice this afternoon, he thinks we're going to get our asses handed to us on Saturday otherwise.** Richie rolls his eyes. **If you want, I'll give you the keys to the Jeep- you can drive yourself home, and I'll walk back.** Eddie shakes his head, because there is no way he's making Richie walk home, exhausted, after practice. He could get hit by a truck.

 **No, it's fine, I can walk.** Eddie writes, but Richie shakes his head.

 **No way, I offered you a ride this morning, I shouldn't bail on you.** Richie explains. Eddie pauses.

 **Well, I could stay?** He tries and vainly tries not to blush when Richie looks at him curiously. **I could do my homework?** Richie raises his eyebrows, but he's smiling.

 **You mean because I'm stopping you from getting it done now?** He teases. **Are you sure you don't mind?** Eddie swallows against a suddenly dry throat at the thought of watching Richie practice in his tight baseball uniform.

 **I don't mind at all.** Eddie writes and it's the honest truth. Richie shrugs.

 **Okay, it's going to be boring, though.** Richie warns him. Eddie smiles weakly and taps against Virgil.

 **I’ll bring a book.** He promises, although he doubts poor Virgil will be getting much, if any, of his attention this afternoon. Richie snorts.

 **Alright, maybe not compared to that.** Richie writes, and pulls out some Calculus homework. Eddie attempts to do some reading, but he cannot stop thinking about how Richie's first instinct was to protect him and that Richie thinks he deserves good things and he hopes no one notices he has not moved off of page 137 in half an hour.

When the bell finally rings, Eddie almost jumps as Richie slaps a companionable hand on his shoulder.

"You'll be in the bleachers, right?" Richie asks. Eddie nods slightly, because he wouldn't miss this for the world. "Okay, see you there."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> be sure to check out my twitter!
> 
> you can slide into my dms anytime fjsjsjsn ineedmorefriends fisnsnsj!! ♡


End file.
